


Necking on the Sofa

by toli-a (togina)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: 1930s, Fluff, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-28 07:04:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6319447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/togina/pseuds/toli-a
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Really, no one should have let Bucky near the couch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Necking on the Sofa

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies to all couches harmed in the making of this story. As always, reposted from tumblr, and go bless cabloom for editing.

1938:

“Bucky,  _ Jesus _ , what did you do to the couch?”

"Don’t blaspheme,” Bucky says righteously, holding what might have once been two couch cushions behind his back. Steve snorts, and nearly starts laughing until he gets another look at what  _ used  _ to be his mother’s couch.

“Bucky, what  _ is  _ this? And why did Mrs. Van Leary say that you were welcome to use her sewing machine again? You can’t sew!”

"Well, uh.” Bucky pulls the mess of fabric and stuffing in front of him. “That’s sort of the problem. But I still think it will work!”

Steve blinks, uncertain what the lumpy mess of thread and upholstery is supposed to be. “Um, Buck. Is it a mattress? We already have one of those.” Blushes, because he’s Steve. “And it’s not like you’re  _ really  _ sleeping on the floor.”

Bucky huffs, glares at Steve and shakes the mangled remains of his couch cushions at him. “It’s a quilt! We can’t afford a real one, and you’re always too cold, even with the blankets, so I thought …” He scowls at the smile twitching the corner of Steve’s mouth, then looks at the disaster in his hands. They both burst into giggles at the same time, Steve laughing so hard that he nearly sets off his stupid lungs.

That night, Bucky insists on draping the poor sofa’s cadaver over them, ugly brown fabric thankfully invisible in the dark. Steve complains at losing the couch - but he only catches cold once that winter, and even if he won’t say it, they both know that between Bucky and the ‘quilt’, it’s the warmest he’s ever been.

2015:

“What the fuck happened to my couch?” Sam, normally soft-spoken and gentle around Bucky, lest he set the Soldier off, drops all his reusable grocery bags on the carpet and screeches.

“I can see why they named you after a bird,” Bucky says, and uses his metal arm to hammer the broken arm rest against an equally sorry-looking frame.

Steve blushes, and holds the cushions behind his back. “We’ll wash the cushions,” he promises, solemn and bright red.

“You’ll wash the - you think the biggest problem this couch has is the  _ cushions _ ?” Sam replies, disbelieving. Then pauses, realization dawning in his horrified expression. “You  _ had sex  _ on my couch?!”

"Mostly,” Bucky corrects, frowning at the shattered and twisted pieces of metal under fabric. “It broke, though, so we moved the cushions onto the floor. You need sturdier furniture.”

Sam puts plastic covers on all the chairs. And his bed. Just in case.


End file.
